


After Antarctica

by cryptidturtle



Category: Secret Saturdays - Fandom, The Secret Saturdays, tss - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Protective Siblings, Set immediately after Kur Rising, Siblings, basically sappy cryptid siblings comfort their little brother, theyre all in shock and afraid but zaks family has his back no matter what, zak saturday deals with being a 12 year old ancient cryptid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidturtle/pseuds/cryptidturtle
Summary: Antarctica happens. The Saturday family learns a truth that threatens everything and shakes them to their core. Now they pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Doyle Blackwell & Doc Saturday & Drew Saturday & Fiskerton Saturday & Zak Saturday, Fiskerton Saturday & Zak Saturday, Komodo Saturday & Zak Saturday, Zak Saturday & Zon Saturday
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54





	After Antarctica

**Author's Note:**

> circling back to my annual tss hyperfixation to cry about the saturday family  
> follow me on tumblr @ [cryptidturtle](https://cryptidturtle.tumblr.com/) for more tss content

Leaving Antarctica is a quiet and hurried affair. The knowledge that if anyone, _anyone_ , finds out Zak is who- what he is they’d never stop being hunted presses in on them from all sides. Making the journey through the icy terrain fraught with a nervous tension.  
Shortly after ...the revelation, once they’d all gotten past the terrified stunned silence and tentative setting of an action plan, Doc and Drew swooped in with reassurances. Holding Zak tight and promising, swearing to him everything would be okay and that they’d figure this out as a family. That no, he was _not_ the bad guy now.  
But Zak’s eyes were transfixed on the Kur Relic, wide in open-mouthed horror as the artifact cast a pale orange glow on his face. He doesn’t understand. Doyle, masking a grimace, eventually stuffs it in his satchel again. But the light still filters out through the small gaps as they walk, reminding them of what weighs far too heavily on their mind.

They’re all exhausted, littered with scrapes and bruises. Komodo’s missing a few patches of scales, Drew’s knuckles are bloodied and split, Doc is walking on some sort of limp, Zon is purposefully favoring her right wing over her left, and Doyle’s left eye is already beginning to swell shut. Whatever fantastic power he wielded earlier sapped Zak of most his strength so he slumps against Fisk where he’s perched on his shoulders. Staring at the snow listlessly and ignoring the steady thrum of the migraine that came with using too much of his ability.

“We’re alive, we won today. That’s what matters,” Drew reminds her family empathetically as they corral into the airship and she directs them to the medical bay.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Doyle mutters and though post-battle playful bickering and quips are a common practice between them all, he sounds a bit too rightfully morose for the conversation to continue beyond that.

What follows is routine, or at least an echo of what routine normally is. Zak’s parents fussing over first-aid, Doyle clasping a reassuring hand on his shoulder and ruffling his hair telling him he “did good, kiddo”, Komodo hissing loudly in protest as Fisk wraps gauze around his injuries, Zon subsequently making his hair situation _worse_ as she chitters soothingly and gently tugs on it with her beak. That gets him to manage a smile and the building tightness in his chest eases a little.  
Doc attempts to quietly sneak away to get the airship off the ground and Drew chases him down wielding an ice pack. Zak is sitting on one of the padded med-cots getting carefully prodded by a concerned Fiskerton when the engines rumble to life. The Saturdays all breathe a quiet sigh of relief they didn’t realize they were holding in when the airship lifts off the ground and breaks the cloud coverage.  
Zak winces, his expression tight, when Fisk’s paw accidentally brushes against his ribs where Argost kicked him earlier and suddenly _he’s_ getting chased down with an ice pack too. 

* * *

He finds himself hours later leaning against the wall in the darkened corridor where his bedroom is in the airship, his knees drawn close to his chest and arms tucked over them. They’d been flying nonstop but Zak was pretty sure they hadn’t hit the Tropic of Capricorn yet.  
The time had passed in a disjointed blur, aside from a few moments of normalcy that brought him clarity and a trickle of relief. The rest of it ran together like a jumbled mess of numb paranoia. Like he was swimming in the world’s suckiest ocean and every time someone squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile he was surfacing for just a moment. 

He’d been sent to bed, largely because at well past 9:45 he was dead on his feet and The Adults had that antsy look on their face that meant they had something to hash out they didn’t want him or his siblings hearing. Which meant he was awake and craning to listen to what they were saying in the other room. Like anyone could get any sleep after finding out they’re somehow an ancient all-powerful evil cryptid. Was the evil part mandatory? Zak sincerely hoped it wasn’t.

He could hear the frantic hushed whisper of his mom, she sounded irate, which was her way of sounding stressed. They were discussing whether it was safe for them to go back to what was left of the house for supplies. They had enough to last them for a month’s expedition but what about after? Would they need them in the first place? His dad claimed the sub levels were mostly intact, and no one knew about Zak yet so for now they should proceed as usual to keep suspicion away. Uncle Doyle thinks they shouldn’t touch the place with a 10 foot pole. Drew brings up the fact Dr. Bara definitely knew they were leaving to fight Kur and no doubt phoned in the rest of the Secret Scientists.  
That spurs on a bout of whispered arguments between the three of them. Doc has known people like Drs. Cheveyo and Beeman since college and is certain that a few of their colleagues would be willing to understand and help find a solution. But Doyle is still rankled after the Paris Incident and says they were much too willing to turn against them. They agree unanimously that Epsilon’s People should remain in the dark. At a certain point they just start talking in anxious circles and Zak allows his focus to wander.

Kur. He’s been thinking of it as the ultimate evil, something he has to do everything in his power to stop for so long now. He mouths it just to see if the word feels different on his tongue. When it's referring to him now. It doesn’t, because preventing Kur- it- him- _me_ has been their primary focus for months now and he’s said it so many times he wouldn’t care if he never hears the name again, but he thinks it should. Maybe it just hasn’t sunken in yet. Maybe the Kur Relic just glows for fun sometimes.  
Zak’s hands where they’re resting protectively around his knees, scrunch up fistfuls of his pants fabric and a sharp cold feeling shoots through his chest, spreading ice into his veins. Yeah, probably not. Great, now his eyes are stinging. He presses closer against the metal airship paneling, as if he could make his stupefied emotions as small as himself. Tries not to let himself get pulled under the wave of all his feelings. Tries not to feel like the bad guy.

Zak lets himself sniffle, once, a pathetic small sound before he’s dragging his sleeve over his eyes and attempting to get it under control. The noise is all it takes though because moments later there’s the distinct sound of someone trying very hard to sneak around and a furry weight plops down right beside him. No doubt snooping on the grownups’ chat too.  
Fiskerton murmurs a concerned inquiry and he can feel him taking advantage of his stellar night-vision studying his face, probably looking for tears or anything else incriminating. The corners of Zak’s mouth pull up but he finds following through with his smile to be much more effort.

  
“Hey. Did I miss anything good?” He asks, resting his head against Fisk’s shoulder. His brother is still peering over at him with a worried squint to his eyes and Zak frowns.  
“I’m okay. Just… N-not something you hear everyday. We’re gonna figure it out.” Though he’s not sure if he believes that yet. The reality of the situation’s still too new, too intimidating to judge yet. Judging from the way his nose crinkles, Fisk doesn’t entirely believe him either. So he settles for pouting and looking at him with puppy eyes until Fisk grumbles dramatically and let’s out a resigned sigh.  
Then launches into what he overheard whilst hiding in the vents (nice) in what Zak’s since realized is Lemurian. Something he never thought to question why he understood so easily. What else had he overlooked? It’s not like he was born holding a sign that said ‘Kur Warning: obey all traffic laws’.   
...Sometimes his powers _did_ feel too big for himself, like he wasn’t meant to be able to hold it all. He ran his tongue over his canine, he had most of his adult set of teeth already, maybe they were a teensy bit sharper than they should be? Were his eyes still a solid brown, or was he imagining the slight variations to his irises when he stared in the mirror? He shook his head to clear it, a fleck of orange or two doesn’t mean he missed some colossal hint that he’s Kur.  
Fisk said they’d circled conversations a few times now, though currently Doyle’s proposing Beeman overcompensates because of his bad haircut and therefore he couldn’t be trusted. Zak snickers at that and Fisk tries and fails to mask how he noticeably brightens at even a hint of his smile.

Fisk coos again, an inquisitive worried noise, and Zak rolls his eyes with a fond huff of exasperation but lets his older brother gently pull him into his arms. A bit of tension bleeds from his frame immediately, Fisk’s fur staving off most of the chill in the airship and his proximity alone naturally puts him at ease. He got comfortable, turning and resting his back against him with Fisk’s arms draped over his shoulders in a reassuring manner. Dang. His bro knows him well.

“Okay, okay. If you’re _that_ curious, it kinda sucks,” Zak says offhandedly. Fisk mumbles encouragingly.   
“Well, y’know- I guess I kinda hoped we’d solve all this Kur junk when we hit Antarctica,” He runs a distracted hand through his hair, “And then we could just… rebuild the house and get back to focusing on just the cryptids again. Like how it used to be, before we had to worry about Argost finding and controlling Kur.” The realization that if Argost ever finds out _he’s_ Kur all that effort would be directed at him makes his mouth go dry.  
Zak swallows thickly, and tells himself that they would be careful, no one has to find out. That he’d never let V.V. _freaking_ Argost use him to hurt anyone, human or cryptid. He ignores the voice in his head that reminds him the Antarctic Cryptid hadn’t been given much choice in the matter. He squeezes his eyes shut and exhales hard through his nose, jeez, he was thinking too hard about this.

He feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and opens his eyes to glance up at Fisk who clued in on what he was thinking about judging by the softening expression on his face. His brother rests his chin on the top of his head as he holds him, before quietly beginning to speak. _We got you. Won’t let anything happen to you,_ Fisk said in his soft murmuring way. 

“Yeah- yeah I know,” Zak manages, his voice sounding wobblier than he meant it to. Fisk rubs his back in a soothing manner as he sucks in a shaky breath. It's silent for a moment as he gathers himself. He then feels a cool forehead bump against his uninjured side, the form rapidly materializing into view scale by scale. Dr. Cheechoo and Dr. Grey would always startle when Komodo pulled his reappearing act during visits but Zak’s had almost all of his childhood to notice the sound of his older brother sneaking around. He snorted and wiped at his nose with his pj sleeve, “You too, huh?” 

Komodo, the king of eavesdropping, let out a lazilly cross hiss as he pressed himself up against Zak and Fisk, happy to steal some of their warmth after the frigid Antarctic temperatures. He paused to squint up at his little brother offering him a comforting slow blink before tucking his head into Zak’s side.  
His arm immediately went around the lizard curling up close to them, smiling in spite of himself and vehemently ignoring how watery his eyes felt. He blinks a few quick times before turning to glance at both of his brothers with a suspicious raise to his eyebrow.

“Is Zon hanging around too?” Zak questions and is met with sheepish noncommittal grumbles and hisses (and averting eyes on Fisk’s part.) He feels quiet laughter bubble up in his chest as they fail to sound convincing, “Okay either we all have a serious problem with eavesdropping or you guys planned this.”

As if on cue, and thus confirming his suspicions Zon lumbers out from another darkened hallway. Quietly cawing in greeting as if she too understood the need for volume control. He giggles at the ridiculousness of his siblings and tries _tries_ not to cry as his sister comes to sit on the other side of Fiskerton and him.

“Oh my god you guys are so cheesy, I’m okay!” Zak stage-whispers, trying to keep it down while smiling through his words, only choking up a little. Its just… he’s so glad they’re here. Zon chitters at him and gently bumps her head against his forehead. He lets out a shaky breath and fondly brushes a hand through her feathers, “Thanks. I love you too.” He turns to look at Fisk and Komodo, the former with a soothing hand on his shoulder and the latter protectively pressed against his side, “I love you guys. So much.” Then under his breath, “ _Dorks._ ”  
Fisk makes a dramatic affronted noise, waggling his finger disapprovingly and Komodo growls without any heat to the sound. Zak begins to snicker, only for his breath to hitch and the tears finally start to flow without any fanfare. He scrubs at his eyes but the tears don’t stop and his expression crumples in a way he’d been fighting off since Antarctica. Guess the shock finally wore off. Komodo makes a concerned sound and Zon lifts her wings up as if to shield him from anything that might do him harm. But Fisk seems like he’d been expecting this to happen inevitably and calmly wraps his arms tight around him as Zak’s shoulders begin to shake.

“I’m,” A sharp inhale, “I’m okay. I just- Its just-” Zak knows he doesn’t have to explain to them, doesn’t really know how to anyways. Fisk is softly intoning reassurances _okay to be scared, scared too, its okay not to be okay_ . Komodo and Zon keep close to either side of him, comfortingly standing guard against the world.  
He clings to his family tight and tears stream down his face for a minute or two before he finally manages to say the only thing that can come close to describing the gut deep feeling of _wrongness_ at his core.

“ _I don’t want to be Kur_ ,” Zak says, desperation leaking into his voice as it breaks, burying his head into his hands. A silent bout of sobs overtakes him as his siblings hold onto him, keeping him grounded, supporting him as he dredges up the overwhelming mass of emotions today took from him and gets it all out. They hate that they can’t offer him a solution yet, but right now being _here_ with him is more than enough. 

Eventually, when Zak’s cried his eyes dry and the fear in his chest feels less like it's going to swallow him whole,  
When he’s laying against Fisk’s fur, his head by Zon’s side and Komodo’s head resting on his lap,   
When his eyelids are heavy and there’s enough comfort in the knowledge that his family: his siblings, his parents, his uncle would protect him, that he feels the safety necessary to let sleep claim him.

* * *

Zak wakes up an indiscriminate number of hours later, his breath stolen from him in a silent gasp. His dreams were muddled and dark, shadowy hands reaching for him, never to be driven back. Encroaching closer, closer until they surround him and grab hold, clawed icy grip piercing his skin and suffocating him, pulling him apart, grasping onto him painfully, feverishly, only for a blinding orange glow to engulf his dream, and the hands shrink back in fear.  
His eyes adjust to the darkness, his legs are tangled up in his comforter and he’s in his bedroom. His breath comes back to him in a sigh of relief when he realizes he isn’t alone. Fisk is curled around him like the world’s cuddliest barrier, with Komodo snoring at the foot of the bed, and Zon dozing where she’s perched at his headboard. He should’ve known they wouldn’t leave him. They’re all too Saturday for that.

Zak rests his head back on his pillow and listens to the sound of his siblings’ breathing as he tries to get his thudding heartbeat to slow. Slowly but surely, with quiet deep breaths his mom taught him in meditation lessons, it miraculously does. He really _really_ hoped nightmares weren’t a key feature to the whole Kur Experience.  
Fisk mumbles something in his sleep and drapes a lazy arm over his brother. Once again reminding him that they’re here. Protecting him. They love him, Kur or not. And Zak convinces himself to save being Kur, and nightmares, and talking about the whirlwind of confusing feelings he has for the morning. Because after everything, what they’d gone through to get there, facing the most dangerous being he’s ever known only to learn its himself, the only thing he wants to do is lay here with his family.  
He knows they’ll keep him safe. No matter what comes for him, no matter what he turns out to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> okay so rewatching kur part 1 again after i already finished this fuckin fic i realized they just hopped into an all-terrain vehicle and drove off instead of walking so rip to me but whatever they had to walk to the car first it makes sense i promise
> 
> comments appreciated! id love to hear ppl's thoughts


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